


Ballet Direction ficlet time stamps

by Blake



Series: Ballet Direction [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Ballet, F/F, Perfectionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 21:44:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17947652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blake/pseuds/Blake
Summary: Time Stamps for the Ballet Direction series





	Ballet Direction ficlet time stamps

Harry tries again. _Plié_ in fifth, draw the front foot to the knee while straightening and spinning on the other foot, make two full turns, and land back in the _plié_ in fifth.

“Fuck,” she says, falling out of the second half of the turn so she lands with her feet too far apart.

She tries again.

_Think of every action as an abdominal crunch_ , she tries. Her legs turn inward and it’s ugly. _Imagine you’re suspended from a string going down the length of your spine_ , she tries. She spins out of control and lands completely off balance. _Power your turn with the opposing forces of rotation in your thighs_ , she tries. She makes it around half a turn before her momentum runs out of steam.

She’s about two more attempts away from crying in frustration. All the teacherly advice in the world can’t save her.

She tries again. _Do it for Louis_ , she tries. She practically falls flat on her bum.

Turns out she was only one attempt away from crying in frustration.

Sometimes, Louis has the worst timing. For example, it would have been preferable for Louis to find her _after_ she was done sitting on the stage floor, sniffling and dripping tears onto her ever disappointing feet four hours before curtain.

Louis runs over to her and kneels between her legs immediately, holding Harry’s jaw and stroking the hairspray-stiff mat of her hair and whispering _what’s wrong baby_ s and _shh it’s okay_ s and _you look so lovely_ s. It all just makes Harry sob into the front of Louis’s leotard, unsoothed even by the soft warmth of her girlfriend’s sternum.

“Can’t do _pirouette_ ,” Harry manages to get out through her sniffles.

“Pirouettes are stupid,” Louis says, her voice rumbling in her chest beneath Harry’s cheek.

“But…perfect.” Harry wants it to be perfect, because it’s _Louis’s_ choreography and _Louis’s_ chance to showcase her amazing talent, and _Harry_ ’ _s_ going to ruin it all because she can’t do a double _pirouette_ from fifth position.

Louis leans in and kisses her, just like that. Snotty and tear-salty and broken out from last night’s dress rehearsal makeup. Harry feels herself resisting for a second, because Louis’s not meant to _see_ her like this, an ugly mess and a failure at double _pirouettes_ from fifth position. If only she could just wipe her face first, or promise Louis that she’ll get it right, or at least brush her teeth.

But Louis’s lips move softly against hers. Slowly, exploring, like it’s the first time. It takes Harry’s breath away, and she can’t help kissing back, taking small tastes of Louis’s upper lip, her lower lip, the corner of her mouth. The sounds of their lips smacking echo on the stage. Harry sinks into Louis’s breath. Her own breath sighs out of her, and Louis’s tongue slips easily between her teeth. The soft curl of it starts Harry’s heart like an electric shock.

Harry interlocks her fingers around the back of Louis’s neck, pulling her deeper. Louis gasps and shudders into her mouth. Harry drops back to lie flat on the cold floor, smiling up at the stage lights while Louis follows her down and kisses wetly across the dried trails of her tears. “… _Pirouette_ ,” she hears Louis murmur against her jaw.

“What?” Harry says, a frown coming back to her.

“You can do the fucking splits instead of a turn for all I care. You don’t have to do the _pirouette_.”

“But your choreography…”

“Is my choreography, so I get to change it if I want.”

Harry feels so relieved and so in love that she has to squeeze Louis tight against her chest, forcing a squeak out of her and making kissing impossible. When Louis can breathe again, she props up over Harry on her elbows and brushes her finger over Harry’s nose. “I’ve been stressing out over everything going perfectly, but I’m so fucking tired of it. I don’t _want_ to be a perfectionist.”

“Oh my god, same,” Harry whispers. She feels the clunking vibrations of pointe shoes jumping somewhere on the floor behind them. Some other girls must be coming out to practice. She hopes they don’t land on her head.

Louis nuzzles her face in the space between Harry’s jaw and her shoulder. “How about we decide that tonight’s going to go however it’s going to go, nothing we can do about it at this point. You can fall out of your _pirouette_ and I’ll go hide in the car until show time.”

Harry gets her fingers through Louis’s hair and moves her to where she can kiss her. “We can snog in the car until show time,” she says against Louis’s lips. Her body feels loose and exhausted and free at the same time. Being a perfectionist sucks. Being in love is the best.

“Perfect,” Louis whispers, pressing the word in deep with her kiss.


End file.
